Time to End it All
by SatansLollipop
Summary: Maybe, it was time to end it. Currently re-written.
1. Time to End it All

Time to End it All

Chapter 1

Outside, wisps of wind pushed around small delicate snowflakes, before finally letting them drift to the ground peacefully.

Outside, the harsh winter delivered it's cold, demonic wrath upon the beautiful snowy lands of Russia.

Outside, people shivered in cold, wrapping their coats and scarves more tightly around themselves before walking on.

All this, Russia knew. He also knew that he was very, very tired... and that maybe it was finally time to end it all. A meteor had struck Russia recently, causing a lot of damage. He could feel the pain and suffering of the people affected by the crash.

 _Why? All those wars you survived_ , he thought bitterly to himself, _you didn't give up, yet you give up now, because of a meteor?_ He couldn't help letting out a bitter laugh. Deep down, he knew the meteor was just an excuse for him to give up. He had clung to survival during the wars for his country and people, but now he wasn't needed, so why _not_?

Russia glanced out the window, where the snow was slowly drifting down from the sky, then back at the metal object he held in his hand. The silver gun gleamed in the dim light shining in from the window, somehow finding a way in despite the thick snow. Maybe, it was time to end it.

He had been feely very tired lately, it wasn't that his body was tired, oh no, he was full of energy. It was deep down, his ancient soul - hardened by wars and death, suffering and pain, which had survived hardship _nobody_ , not even a _nation_ , deserved to endure since childhood - that was tired. If he wanted to die, now would be a good time to do it. He had survived wars from the inside and the outside. Russia was at peace and would prosper once winter had gone. His country would be able to manage without him, after all, even his own people were afraid of him. Nobody would miss Russia, the intimidating and creepy nation, would they?

Russia let out a deep sigh, then slowly, he lifted the gun and pointed it to his head, he could feel the coldness of the metal seeping into his head where the gun pressed. Somehow, it felt apt to die today, of all days. To die on the same day he was born. It was his birthday today, and no one cared. Who would?

He heard the door opening and then slamming downstairs. A voice called out his name, followed by hurried footsteps coming up the stairs. Russia's finger twitched on the trigger. The door to his room flew open. There was a BANG, and the last thing he heard before he sunk into the comforting darkness was a voice calling his name.

Then the darkness swallowed him whole.

 **I know this is really depressing, and I've always thought of Russia as a lonely nation who is often misjudged and just wants to make friends. I'm thinking of writing two ending, one sad and one happy. This is my first Hetalia fan-fiction, so please forgive me if it is crappy.**

 **Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hetalia. It belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**


	2. Don't Leave Me

Don't Leave Me

Chapter 2

China's POV

Today was Russia's birthday. I pushed open the door to his house. All was dark and silent, the air seemed to crackle with tension in the strained silence. "Russia?" I called, looking around the dark house. There was no reply. I hurried up the red carpeted stairs, eager for him to see my birthday present to him. I reached the dark door and cautiously pushed it open. I expected to see him at the desk or just brooding in silence. What I _didn't_ expect was a loud BANG.

I looked into the room in alarm, calling his name, did he fall or knocked over something? Only to be greeted by the prone, still figure lying on the floor, with an ever-growing puddle of dark liquid under him. I hurried over, thinking that he had probably knocked over some drink before I caught that familiar salty tang in the air. The scent I had smelled on every battlefield. The scent that I had associated with gruesome and terrible memories. Blood.

NO. NO. It can't be, he wouldn't, couldn't go and do something so stupid, would he? My eye caught the gleam of silver metal clutched in his hand. I cautiously stretched out my trembling fingers to the puddle. They came away red. I stumbled back.

NO.

It can't be. I knelt beside the still figure and slowly flipped him over, so he was lying on his back. There was a peaceful look on Russia's face, as is he had wanted to die. Maybe he had. I pushed that thought away. Bending down, I put my ear to his chest, hoping to hear his heartbeat.

 _Thump._

 _Thump._

There was one last

 _Thump_

and then... silence.

"No!" I cried "No, NO, NO". "Don't leave me please." I begged him, hitting him in the chest, hoping Russia would just sit up and laugh at how he had fooled me pretending to be dead. No response. I hit him again, harder. And again and again. He didn't wake. Trembling, I slowly reached out a hand to his, holding his while my free hand reached for the gun in his other hand. I pried his fingers away from the gun and slowly lifted it to my head. I put my finger on the trigger, looking down for the last time onto that peaceful face. "I... I love you." I whispered, and then I pressed the trigger.

The last thing I saw was Russia's peaceful face.

 **This story is kinda sad, even though it wasn't very good. Sorry, if I offended any Russia or China fans. I used China because I couldn't decide and my friend just told me to use China. I hope you like it. The second ending is a happy ending, so if you like Happily Ever Afters, read the next chapter which will be out soon.**


	3. Still Alive

Still Alive

The first thing I felt when I regained consciousness was a pool of liquid underneath my head.

The next, I smelt the thick, salty tang of blood.

Me shooting myself in my head wasn't a dream then.

The more troubling thought came a second later. _It didn't work._

I hadn't believed America when he told me he had tried to kill himself only to wake up later surrounded by blood.

No, I hadn't _wanted_ to.

I wanted to believe that there would be a way out.

A way to end everything.

A way to escape.

That answered my question of whether we, the personified nations, were _god's chosen_ or _god's cursed_.

Forced to feel every single of our own people's feelings. Sure, there were a lot of positive feelings like joy and hope.

But the negative feelings were far more.

Humans always craved more. They were never satisfied.

Anger.

Hatred.

Sorrow.

Their desire for more filled me.

In this modern world, everyone had lots of pressure and fear.

Fear of being late.

Fear of being alone.

Fear of dying.

Forced to feel everyone's pain.

From the tiniest scrape to a large gaping wound.

I felt it all.

And worse, the natural disasters.

Luckily for me, my country was large and well developed enough that a flood was just a headache to me, while it bought others to their knees.

When general winter came, I am always cold.

Nothing helped. Not even fire or my trusty alcohol.

I became cold from the inside _and_ the outside.

I could have been mistaken dead or an ice statue by my body temperature.

If we, me and the other personificed nations, weren't cursed, then hell would be filled with vodka and sunflowers, heaven with hamburgers and pasta.

Groaning, I sat up and blinked at the light that shone in from the window.

The snow had thawed then, no longer blocking the window.

I must have been dead longer than I thought.

When my eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, I saw that there was a dark stain on my coat.

Strange.

I shot myself in the head, not anywhere else.

Why would blood be on my coat?

Then I saw another dark puddle of blood on the floor with something lying in it.

Or rather, some _one_.

Quietly, I knelt down beside the person and flipped him over.

Only to see the face of the one person I never expected.

My voice was dry and raspy when the shock finallly wore off enough for me to speak.

"Yao?"

 **Yao is China's human name.**


End file.
